


Your Song

by zebraljb



Series: Tis the Season [13]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Coma, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 17:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16978566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: PROMPT - my playlistI'm in a mood today, not the best but not the worst.  So this is...weird. I apologize.Harry's trying to cope with the fact that Eggsy's in a coma.  He finds Eggsy's phone, listens to his playlist, and realizes he doesn't know the love of his life at all.





	Your Song

YOUR SONG

“Harry, why don’t you go home for a while?”

Harry glares up at Merlin, eyes swollen and tired. “What if he wakes up for one minute and I’m not here, Merlin?” He kisses the hand he holds tightly in both of his own.

“If he wakes up for only one minute, he probably wouldn’t know you anyway,” Merlin says gently. He puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll be here all night, working with Kay. I’ll sit in here with my clipboard…call you the instant anything changes.”

Harry sighs and nods. He slowly stands and gently places the hand back on the bed. “I’ll be gone for just a moment, my darling boy.” He kisses Eggsy’s forehead below the bandages. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Merlin walks him down to the bullet train. “I mean it, I will notify you of any changes.”

“I know. Thank you, Merlin. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s all right, Harry. I understand.”

Harry almost falls asleep on the train. He’s been awake at Eggsy’s bedside for almost three days, ever since he’d arrived back from a mission in Uruguay unconscious and with a broken arm. A building had crumbled around him and it was only by Tristan’s quick thinking that he managed to get out at all. Tristan had apologized, telling Arthur how sorry he was that he hadn’t made it to Galahad sooner. “It’s all right,” Harry told Tristan. “You brought him home, that’s all that matters. We’ll take care of him now.”

By the time Harry gets home, however, he’s wide awake and feeling his second wind. He looks around the house, sighing as he sees Eggsy’s trainers on the floor in the foyer and his snapback on the table in the hall. Harry is constantly after him to pick up after himself, and he starts to move the trainers to their assigned spot. He then realizes that Eggsy may never be back to put them away. He lets the shoe fall to the floor with a thump.

He removes his own coat and wearily hangs it up, feeling a curious weight in his pocket. He reaches in and finds Eggsy’s phone. He’d placed it in there when they’d stripped Eggsy down to place him in a hospital gown. It’s cold in his hand and Harry realizes he’s rarely seen it more than a short distance away from its owner. Eggsy, a typical Millennial, has made the gadget another part of his body, another appendage. 

Harry brings the phone with him as he goes to the kitchen and makes himself something to eat. He’s not hungry but he knows he’s not eaten enough in the past 72 hours, and Eggsy would be furious if he let himself go simply because “I was layin’ in a bed takin’ a fuckin’ nap, Haz.” He opens the phone to its home screen and smiles at the picture he finds there: Harry seated on the sofa, Daisy on his lap and kissing his cheek. Michelle and Daisy don’t know that Eggsy’s even back in the country, thinking that he’s still in Greece for a buying trip. 

Harry scrolls around in the phone as he eats, knowing Eggsy won’t mind. They’ve been together for almost a year now, and Harry feels there’s very little they don’t know each other, down to the fact that Eggsy prefers gel toothpaste and Harry old-fashioned mint. He looks through the pictures and smiles as he realizes he himself makes up half the gallery on Eggsy’s phone. He finishes his sandwich and rinses his plate before heading up to bed. He falls sleep with Eggsy’s phone in his hand.

 

Harry wakens sixteen hours later feeling rested but not better. There’s a dull ache in his chest and he briefly forgets why. When he sees the phone on the bed next to him, however, it all comes rushing back. Eggsy’s not here. He’s in Medical, sleeping away in a coma due to a traumatic brain injury. 

Harry forces himself to shower, forces himself to dress, forces himself to eat breakfast. He’s received one message from Merlin, telling him everything is the same and nothing’s changed, for better or worse. He looks around the kitchen and wonders what he’s supposed to do. He’ll eventually go back into HQ; his place is next to Eggsy, holding his hand. Anything required of him as Arthur can wait, and if it can’t, he can take care of it at Eggsy’s bedside.

He sees a few coffee grounds on the floor by the rubbish bin and realizes it’s probably been days since the house has had a good cleaning. It was on their joint list of chores to do upon Eggsy’s return, but obviously that list has fallen by the wayside. Harry takes a deep breath and stands up. When Eggsy gets home – and he WILL get home – the house will be clean and welcoming. 

As he gets out the broom, dustpan and polishing rag, he notices how quiet the house is. When Eggsy’s in residence, it’s obvious. The television is on, a video game is shouting obscenities at him (and he shouts them right back), or music is blaring from his phone. Harry stares at the phone for a long moment before opening the music player. He never really pays much attention to what Eggsy plays on his phone. He’s usually in another part of the house, searching for peace and quiet. He loves his boyfriend, but he’s rarely quiet. 

Harry suddenly wonders why that’s always bothered him so much. At this moment, he would give years of his life to have Eggsy there slamming things about.

Harry opens the app and hits play, expecting some sort of hip hop noise to come pouring out. He’s shocked when he hears a few familiar notes and then an even more familiar voice sing, “Like a fool I went and stayed too long…now I’m wondering if your love’s still strong, ooh, baby, here I am, signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours…”

Stevie Wonder?

Harry starts to sweep the floor, and it’s only when the song finishes that he realizes he was moving the broom in time with the music. Eggsy would most definitely approve.

The morning continues in this manner, Harry puttering about, straightening and sweeping and vacuuming and mopping and polishing. He keeps Eggsy’s phone with him, growing more and more agitated with every song. He thought he knew his boy. He was wrong. The songs that come pouring from the tiny device show sides of Eggsy Harry hadn’t known existed. David Bowie. Marvin Gaye. Otis Redding. Marlon Brandon attempting to sing “Lucky Be a Lady” from “Guys and Dolls.” Songs from animated Disney movies. There were the type of songs he expected, performers named Drake and Eminem and Juice Wrld and The Weeknd (Harry couldn’t actually call them singers, and why did half of them insist on spelling their names with letters missing?). Many songs from a band called The Strokes, which Harry actually liked and filed away to listen to again later. A group that seemed to use synthesizers more than anything else was also prevalent, a band called Future Islands. It was an eclectic mix and it made Harry feel ashamed. What else didn’t he know about his darling boy?

Harry went to the rack of video games and started flipping through them. He knew that Eggsy somehow saved them onto the unit itself, but there were still papers and cases strewn in a box. He knew that Eggsy preferred games that had him working on missions with other players (ironic), but it seemed that he played football, built a world out of square blocks, drove fast cars and bounced around as a little Italian plumber as well. Harry thinks of something and rushes upstairs to Eggsy’s side of the bed. They each have a nightstand, and Harry’s is cluttered with books and papers and some of Arthur’s work. Eggsy’s is neat and almost empty, and only one book sits on its surface.

Harry slowly sits on the bed and picks up the book, a slim novel entitled “Ready Player One.” He hugs it to his chest, thoroughly ashamed of himself. He was just as bad as everyone he’d ever chastised for seeing Eggsy only as a chav from the estates. Hadn’t he done the same thing? He’d loved his boy for his warm heart, his generous soul, his dedicated worth ethic. If he loved you, he’d die for you. Harry knew Eggsy was intelligent, knew he was quick. But apparently that was all he knew, because what he was slowly finding out had escaped his notice for months. Eggsy was more than a cocky smile and beautiful thighs. He was more than a brash wit and eager bravado.

Harry curls up on Eggsy’s pillow and opens the book. 

 

He sits down at Eggsy’s bedside hours later, neatly put together in Eggsy’s favorite suit of his, a deep blue that Eggsy says brings out the depth of his eyes. “Good evening, darling. I’m sorry I didn’t return sooner. I was cleaning up a few things at home.” He takes Eggsy’s hand and kisses the knuckles. “My precious boy, I am so very sorry. I…I’ve been worried about you, of course…so afraid you’ll be taken from me. We…we haven’t had near enough time.” Harry lays his cheek on Eggsy’s hand. “But I…I realized today that I have behaved quite dreadfully. I’ve put you in a neat little box, just like everyone else. You’re Eggsy, my cocky brat of a boy who drives me crazy both in the bedroom and out. You’re Galahad, brave and loyal Kingsman knight. But you’re so much more, and I’ve willfully ignored that. How could I let myself know how strong and smart and wonderful you are, because if I admitted it to myself, I would then be so very afraid. Someone like you would not wish to settle for a broken man like me forever.” Harry chokes on the words and takes a deep breath. “But when you wake, I will officially apologize, and I will take a stronger interest in the things that please you. I will watch you play a video game, even if I don’t join in. I will listen to your music without complaint…except for that Future Islands nonsense…I cannot tolerate that again. I will ask your opinion and start treating you like an equal.” He kisses Eggsy’s hand again. “Now.” He pulls the book from his pocket. “I see here you were just finished with chapter eight. I’ve read to that point myself. Wade has just found the Copper Key, and I must admit, I’m quite eager to find out what happens next. I was quite surprised to see you interested in a book like this. The video game part I understand, but the character’s love for the Eighties? You weren’t even born yet.” Harry flips through the pages.

“Future Islands…fuckin’ aces, old man.”

“I must disagree, darling, I…” Harry drops the book. “Eggsy.” 

“Haz.” Eggsy slowly smiles up at him. 

“I…I love you.” Harry falls to his knees beside the bed. He sobs onto Eggsy’s hand. “I love you so much, dear boy. I’m so sorry. I…”

“Why ya apologizin’?” Eggsy whispers. “Ya don’t…gotta like everything I like.”

“But I should respect your hobbies and the things you enjoy. I never even tried to get to know you in that manner. And how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough…foolish old bear,” Eggsy says. “Now give us a proper kiss an’ then call a doc in here. I’m thirsty.”

“I love you.” Harry stands up, wipes his tears away and leans down to kiss him.

“Love you, too.”


End file.
